


A Fine Choice

by FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hogwarts, Reflection, Slytherin, Sorting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/FairyQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years later, Andromeda reflects over her Sorting and wonders whether the hat has made a mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fine Choice

She could still hear her mother’s voice whispering into her ear, could still see the hint of a smile on her face when she had turned away to follow Bella to the platform, could see it right before her eyes, even now, years later. It was a smile Mother had never smiled again. She could still see the small tear that little Cissy had so desperately attempted to hide, still laughed at her burning desire to join them, a wish her sister had not been granted for two more years, could still feel her gaze burning on her skin in childish envy as they disappeared through what seemed like an ordinary wall. 

It was as though it had been no longer than a day ago that Andromeda had bid farewell to her family, that she had walked through the castle’s large gates for the first time, that the Sorting Hat was carefully placed on her head. 

There was no need to worry about the ceremony, her parents, her aunts and uncles, even her sisters had told her at the dinner table just the night before; of course she would be in Slytherin, bringing honour to her family and house like they all once had – she was a Black after all, and Blacks had slept within the dungeon’s walls for centuries; why should she be the first to sully their name by allowing the Sorting Hat to contradict what history had long proven? 

Andromeda had smiled at them, had politely listened to their stories, yet barely touched her meal – had it been their intention to comfort her, they had failed, causing her worry to grow endlessly. 

“What if I’ll be the first?” she muttered to herself that night, her voice breaking with fright. Her aunt Walburga would for certain ban her name and face from the family tree at Grimmauld Place, leaving behind a large burnt spot at her place, causing her parents and sisters to perish with shame… 

How much she wished for someone to talk to… But Cissy was already fast asleep, dreaming of the day Andromeda dreaded more than anything else, and Bella would only laugh at her, call her a fool (or worse, in the awareness that Mother wasn’t listening) and send her back to bed.

Andromeda had barely slept that night, had never wanted dawn to break, but soon enough she was there, her face nearly hidden beneath the hat’s large brim, eyes closed in order to focus on its words, even though she could hardly understand them. 

_Witty… Eager to learn… Kind-hearted, much unlike your older sister… But I see cunning, too… Bravery… Difficult, very difficult… Ravenclaw would be a fine choice for you, girl… However, Hufflepuff…_

Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff. No. Please, no… Not Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff, not… 

Whereas Bellatrix had always prided herself on the astonishing brevity of her own Sorting ceremony, Andromeda’s seemed to last for an eternity. More than two minutes had passed, yet to her they felt like hours… 

But then, finally, the hat began to laugh, to laugh almost as though to mock her, and shouted: “Slytherin!”

The relief was unspeakable; Andromeda jumped up from the footstool and cheerfully sat down next to Bella, enjoying the feast, starving as though she had not eaten for weeks, and laughing at her sister’s teasing that she had always told her from the beginning. Yet once, only once and for no longer than a split second, she caught herself longingly glancing at the Ravenclaw table. 

Perhaps the hat had made the wrong choice, she thought, quickly shaking her head to ban any of this foolishness from her mind, and to forget that she had ever dared to think out these words. And she forgot indeed, forgot about her doubts until later when a young Hufflepuff boy turned her world upside down.. 

She would not sully the name of Black by allowing the Sorting Hat to contradict what history had long proven, her uncle Orion had told her the night before she was Sorted, and it turned out he had been right. Of course he had been right. It seemed rather ironic to her that his own son Sirius (who had always been her favourite cousin) was the first member of the Noble And Most Ancient House Of Black to spend his time at school as a Gryffindor. 

Yet Andromeda had disgraced her family in a different way, a way that seemed unforgivable, even now, decades later. She had betrayed those she loved by marrying the man she loved, left them behind never to return, never to see them again, never to talk to them, never to look into their eyes again. 

Some called it a mistake that she had run away one night to marry Muggleborn Ted Tonks, whom she had fallen in love with so suddenly, but she knew that it wasn’t. Knew that, even if she had made many mistakes in her life, becoming the wife of the man she loved more than anything else was not one of them. That she would never want to turn back time, no matter how much it would still hurt, no matter how much she missed her sisters, even now. 

Andromeda had never considered herself particularly ambitious, had never seen Bellatrix’s cunning features or Narcissa’s will to constantly strive for perfection in herself, but it had been her ambition to be happy, to reach for the stars and to find her own perfection, far away from pressure, far away from honour and shame, from purity and impurity, far away from a life that was decided by others, as though she were nothing but a puppet on a string. 

Perhaps the hat had been right. Perhaps Ravenclaw, perhaps any other house would have been a fine choice for her, finer than Slytherin could ever have been. She had never felt at home in the dungeons, so unlike her sisters, had spent her time outside whenever possible, but she knew that there had been a reason for her Sorting. Knew that the Sorting Hat could not care less about names, could not care less about what they called tradition or honour. That it was never mistaken. 

Only slowly she began to realise that perhaps nothing but her time in Slytherin had been capable of waking her desire for a better life, a life of freedom, that nothing but Slytherin had been capable of waking her ambition to change what she had always believed could not be changed. And perhaps nothing but Slytherin had given her the strength to break away, granting her the happiness she so desperately longed for.


End file.
